


Team Effort

by pippen2112



Series: RvB Smut Week 2k18 [3]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BDSM, Begging, Developing Relationship, Dom/sub Play, Explicit Sexual Content, Multi, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn with Feelings, Project Freelancer, Rope Bondage, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sub Wash, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 20:12:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13279020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pippen2112/pseuds/pippen2112
Summary: Tucker likes Wash.  Wash likes Tucker.  But Wash has certain needs and a powerful aversion to communication.  Luckily, Carolina has no shame and the video to prove it.Written for Kink Day for RvB Smut Week 2018.





	Team Effort

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hinn_Raven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hinn_Raven/gifts).



> Special Thanks to Hinn_Raven who screamed with me about the idea of Wash as Project Freelancer's community bicycle when NaNoWriMo was getting me down.

Team Effort

“Tucker,” Carolina calls after him as he heads back toward base. They’ve spent the last few hours drilling, Carolina and Wash running point as they dragged the Reds and Blues through game after game of capture the flag. For a little bit in the middle, when the Reds had gotten super competitive against Carolina and Wash went all screechy when Tucker and Caboose kept flubbing up order, it had actually been kinda fun. Almost like old times back in Blood Gulch, only with more order. 

He stops and turns toward her. Usually Carolina won’t spend more than an extra second in his company. So what’s changed today? “You need something, ‘Lina? Bad-ass alien sword wielder at attention? Blue team member to debrief? Doctor Love to show you a good time? _Bow chicka bow wow._ ”

Carolina doesn’t dignify his comment with a response. Instead she grabs him by the collar of his armor and drags him off to the side. “Or, maybe you wanna show the Love Doctor how it’s done? No worries, a refresher course never hurt anyo— OW!” He gripes when Carolina smacks him on the back of the head. “Okay, okay. Shutting up now.”

Folding her hands in front of her, Carolina squares her shoulders and lets out a heavy breath. “Tucker, it’s been brought to my attention that you’ve been spending a lot of time with Wash.”

Tucker’s eyebrows shoot way up. “I mean, yeah. He’s my team leader, so that kinda happens.”

“After hours.” She says clearly and calmly, but Tucker’s gut drops. 

Okay, so maybe over the weekend he and Wash dug into the alcohol rations they found hidden among the supplies. And maybe while he was high on the moment, maybe Tucker leaned over, grabbed Wash’s face with both hands, and kissed him. And maybe Wash kissed him back for about three seconds before backing off, beet red and sputtering about checking their inventory as he ran off. 

And maybe now, Tucker’s two seconds away from pissing his pants because Carolina’s still wearing her helmet and Tucker can’t see if she’s giving him a murder glare and preparing to put her fist through his balls. 

Tucker scrubs the back of his neck, at a loss for how to react. “Fuck, look, I didn’t mean to, okay. It was just one of those heat of the moment things.”

“Wash made that very clear,” Carolina says, again clear and careful. “He asked me to step in on his behalf to help clarify things.”

If Tucker’s eyebrows were arched before, now they’re probably straining for his hairline. “Clarify what exactly? Is there a ‘dibs’ I should know about?”

Thank fucking God she chuckles at that. A little of the tension seeps out of Tucker’s shoulders at the sound. “No,” she says once she’s composed herself. “Nothing like that. Wash has always found these kinds of situations stressful. Probably since before Freelancer, but I can’t say for sure.”

“What sort of situations?”

“The sexual sort.”

Tucker’s eyes go wide, and his heart stops. When it rabbits back to life, the biggest grin spreads across Tucker’s face. “Wash wants to bang me? Oh fuck yes!” He pumps his fist and starts into his victory dance. “Hot freelancer is down to clown!”

“It’s a little more delicate than that,” Carolina cuts in. “Wash requires… specialized care.”

His hips freeze up mid-thrust. Cocking his head, Tucker turns toward Carolina, his body slipping back into a neutral stance. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It’s easier to just show you.” She pulls a data chip from one of the compartments on her armor. 

The fuck? Does ‘Lina have, like, instructions for having sex with Wash? Uhh, that sounds like so much work. But if it means getting to see how much of Wash’s dick will fit in his mouth, well, Tucker will deal. He reaches for the chip, but Carolina tips her hand backward. She gives Tucker a hard look as she steps into his space and says quietly, “If you speak of this to anyone, I will break your kneecaps. If you make a copy, I will remove your kneecaps. If you damage the chip, you won’t even need kneecaps when I’m through with you. Understood?”

Gulping, Tucker nods.

#

That night, while the others are still at dinner and he has the base to himself, Tucker adds the chip to his memory unit and puts on his helmet, ready to skim to his hearts content before passing the fuck out. But when he opens the chip, there’s no text file waiting for him. Instead, it’s a media file. A video. And a large one at that. _The fuck is this?_

Intrigued, Tucker opens the file. For a moment, his screen goes black before playback begins. 

The video opens up on a poorly lit room. Industrial metal walls. A standard issue bunk. A tanned guy in regulation black boxer briefs bent at the waist and rummaging through something at his feet below the frame. “Damn,” Tucker says to himself. The guy’s hot.

Someone whistles, and the guy looks up at the camera, his left eye milky and surrounded by scar tissue. A cocky grin spreads across his face, and he rolls his hips seductively. “Like what you see, Lina?”

“I’ll like it more when you get this show on the road.”

“Patience. You know it takes time to get a scene just right.”

From off camera, there’s a sharp whine. Pretty Guy looks off camera-left, his head cocking to the side before looking back at Carolina behind the camera. “Someone’s excited.”

Carolina hums. “What do you have planned for tonight, York?”

He grins, and stands up, hauling up a duffel bag and setting it on the bunk. Unpacks coils of rope and a scrap of black fabric. “I’m feeling a modified frog tie, some sensory deprivation, and some tease and denial. If he behaves himself.”

He? Who the fuck is this “he?” 

“Sound good?” Carolina asks, her voice deep and commanding and smooth as butter.

“Yes, ma’am,” groans a familiar voice, but Tucker’s never heard it sound so full of want. 

“Then on the bed.”

Without a word of protest, Wash stumbles into frame, painfully young and naked as the day he was born, all pale muscles and healing wounds and freckles galore. And there around his throat is a slim leather band. A collar.

Tucker’s eyes go wide. “What the fuck?”

Wash is halfway to the bed before York gets to him. He hooks a finger through the D-ring dangling from Wash’s collar and pulls him in for a kiss. A heated kiss. _A damn familiar kiss._ Because there’s no way the guy wrenches those sounds out of stoic, stick in the mud, screech prone Agent Washington without at least a little practice.

York pulls back, smirking as Wash cranes in after him. “C’mon, Wash. Can’t leave the boss waiting.”

Nodding, Wash lets himself be led to the bunk and pushed onto the mattress, his profile toward the camera. His eyes drift shut as York rubs his hands up and down Wash’s arms. “Not too cold?”

“No, sir.” Wash’s voice is tense and small, so very small.

“And your all stop word?”

“Daffodils.”

“Good boy,” Carolina says firmly.

Wash lets out a whimper, and York shushes him, running a steady hand through his hair. “You spoil him, ‘Lina.”

“And you don’t?”

Wash throws her a skeptical look, but the open want in his eyes turns the severe expression into something soft and goofy. York scoffs and fists his hand in Wash’s hair. “Uh-uh. Don’t go getting yourself in trouble before we start. I’d hate to bring out the ball gag.”

And to everyone’s surprise—Tucker’s jaw hits the floor, goes through the floor, redefines the floor—Wash’s hips buck, and he moans. “Promises, promises.” But under his sarcasm, he still sounds so fucking desperate.

“Maybe. If you behave. Color?”

“Green, sir.”

York chuckles. “Very good boy. Now, on your knees. Sit back on your heels, and clasp your hands behind your back.”

Melting even more at the order, Wash shifts into position, his hands folded at the small of his back in a mock parade rest. York ruffles his hair good-naturedly, then shuffles back to his coils of rope and gets to work.

Despite the camera angle, Tucker gets a pretty good view of everything this York guy is doing to Wash. With nimble fingers, he works the ropes fast and tight around Wash’s thighs—his very naked thighs. Loops the ends around his ankles and below his knees before tying them off. But with each pass of the ropes, Wash’s posture relaxes, and the tension leeches out of him. Its remarkable to watch the premature lines on his face ease, to see his eyes go soft and trusting.

Once the last knots are tied, York checks the bonds over. His brow knits as he focuses on the ropes, hands never leaving Wash as he moves coil to coil. When he’s finished, York throws a glance to the camera. “Look good on your end?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Carolina says calmly. “I’ll handle the equipment. You worry about the talent.”

Grinning, York nods and turns back to Wash. “Okay, you know the drill. If you wanna come, you gotta be good and stay still. Think you can handle that?”

Wash holds his head high and nods. “Yes, sir.”

And York dives in. Where his hands were soothing and gentle before, now he drags his nails up Wash’s spine and into his hair. He trails his fingertips down Wash’s chest, bypassing his nipples and dropping feather light touches to Wash’s sides. When a laugh startles out of Wash’s mouth, York’s gaze turns mischievous. “Remember, Wash. Stay still.” And he starts tickling in earnest.

Every inch of Wash constricts, muscles straining to follow orders even as he’s tormented on all sides. His eyes squeeze shut. He bites his lip and whines, torn. It’s gorgeous. _He’s gorgeous._ And just before he breaks and starts squirming, York relents. He tugs Wash into a kiss, cutting off his gasp, and when he pulls back, York goes straight for the nipples.

Tucker can’t help but watch as the cycle goes round and round, Wash fighting every torment to maintain his composure and be good when he so clearly wants to squirm away from the tickles, buck when his nipples get tweaked, and lean into every kiss. Tears are leaking out the the corners of Wash’s eyes, and his cheeks are so red he looks ready to explode. And because of the goddamn angle, Tucker can’t see if Wash is actually enjoying this or just enduring.

_Come on, Carolina. Show me the D._

Well, Tucker gets his wish. Sort of. He does finally get to see the D, but it’s not Wash’s. Instead, York hops up and stands on the mattress, pushing down his underpants just far enough to whip out his cock. And yeah, it’s a pretty nice cock, as far as cocks go. Dark and full with a rosy head and a good heft to it, but from the broken whimper Wash lets out at the sight of it, you’d think it was some thick and veiny, awe-inspiring horse cock. But his eyes are fixed on it, and his hands stay clenched behind his back, and his mouth tips open.

“Like that, huh?” York comments as he gives himself a long slow stroke. “Wanna suck it?”

“Please.”

“Shush,” Carolina comments brusquely. And Wash doesn’t even twitch to look at her, he’s so fixated on the dick. “No words. Not right now.”

Wash blushes scarlet from his hairline to his shoulders. Even his ears have gone pink, and Tucker can’t help wanting to lick and nibble on them.

York’s hand moves at the same steady pace on his length, his smirk equal parts teasing and fond. “You heard ‘Lina. No words, but show me what you want, Wash. Just like a good boy.”

Whimpering with need, Wash tilts back his head and sticks out his tongue.

Beaming, York shuffles forward and feeds Wash his cock. 

And Tucker is left gaping at the screen as Wash hums contentedly and sinks forward, deepthroating this York guy’s dick like a fucking champ. He strains forward, the tip of his tongue peeking out to tease York’s balls. Honest to God choking himself with his eagerness. _Fuck, I’ve struck gold,_ Tucker thinks, giving himself a mental high five. Even if Wash is only half as enthusiastic in his old age as he was in his youth, Tucker will still be a very lucky man.

“Good boy,” Carolina chuckles. “Now make him come.”

And to his credit, Wash moans like a slut and redoubles his efforts, and in less than two minutes, York’s back bows and he groans long and low, letting Wash swallow every drop before stumbling backward and pulling his underpants back over his hips. A satisfied smile spreads across his face as he leans forward and presses his thumb against Wash’s lips, rubbing lightly but pulling back every time Wash tries to suck the digit into his mouth. 

“Damn, where’d he learn how to do that tongue thing?” York asks, his tone awed and fond.

“You’ll have to ask him when he’s allowed to talk again.”

Chuckling, York climbs off the bed and crosses to the head of the bunk. He slips in behind Wash, coaxes Wash’s arms apart and drapes them up and around his neck. He leans in and presses gentle kisses to his shoulders and up the curve of his neck. Tucker stares wide eyed because Wash isn’t jumpy or anxious to have someone outside his line of sight. He’s not freaking out and clapping a hand around the nape of his neck. If anything, he relaxes back against York’s chest, soaking in the tiny quiet kisses and the lazy fingers running up and down his sides. 

And then, York looks right at the camera, throws Carolina a wink and a smirk, and starts tweaking Wash’s nipples. And Wash lets out the neediest whine Tucker has ever heard before his head falls forward and he bits his lip. Hard. Tension ripples through his arms as he strains to keep still. Trying so hard to do as they’ve told him. Tucker practically has his nose pressed against his helmet’s playback window, absently wishing he has some popcorn or something because _damn_ is this a show! 

The camera moves so smoothly and so suddenly Tucker nearly forgets it’s a recording. Carolina, presumably, moving around to the foot of the bunk, and yeah, there’s Wash in all his naked glory, his hips bucking forward and his dick hard, red, and leaking. And no one’s even laid a hand on it. 

Tucker’s throat bobs reflexively as the camera gets in close, so achingly close. He nearly reaches out to touch, but there’s no warm breathing Wash in front of him. Just air.

Carolina’s arm stretches into frame, cupping Wash’s cheek before gently easing his lip free from his teeth. Wash nuzzles into her palm, his cheeks dark red and his pupils spread wide with his desire. He cranes forward and sucks her thumb into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing and a pleased keen slipping out from deep in his throat. When he pulls off, Wash noses back to her palm and kisses up the lines until her breath catches. Tucker can’t help following suit because very suddenly this doesn’t feel like porn. And when Wash looks up at Lina with his eyes swimming with want and trust and peace, Tucker’s stomach flips. Yeah, definitely not just an old sex tape.

“Hey now,” York comments, his lips running up to the shell of Wash’s ear, “worshiping Lina is _my_ job.”

Wash moans again, pressing his face against Lina’s palm. Trying to hide, maybe? Carolina lets him for a moment before reaching up and stroking his hair. “I don’t know, York. From the stories Connie tells, you could probably take some lessons from him.”

“That so, huh? I think we may have to test that.” When Wash keens and shudders, York laughs. “You like that idea? Going head to head while the others use your mouth?” York’s hand ghosts down Wash’s chest, drifting closer and closer to his groin but never quite arriving. “Want to be ridden hard and put away wet? Go ahead, Wash. Tell us.”

A note of pure want eeks out of Wash’s throat. For a moment, his lips work soundlessly before he manages to speak. “Whatever you want. Just don’t stop. _Please_.”

“Damn, he’s in a mood today, huh? Needy.” York trails a finger along the ridge of Wash’s dick, sliding through the trails of precum but not pressing nearly hard enough. Wash bites his lip, his hips trembling as he forces them to stay still, forces himself to be patient as York plays. “Maybe when we’re done with him we should stick a dildo in him and leave him in the hall for Connie to pick up after her training session.”

Wash bucks forward, unable to contain himself.

“Shh,” Carolina whispers as she runs her fingers through his hair. “Easy Wash. You’re a good boy. We’ll take care of you. _Right, York?_ ” Tucker can’t see Lina on the video, but from her tone he can guess the look she levels on York is enough to make his balls roll up inside him. 

“We’ve got you, Wash,” York says, still easy and teasing but some of the mischief has melted out of his expression. “We’ll make you feel good. Just keep talking for us.”

Cheeks red enough they’re practically glowing, Wash bows his head and nods. “Yes, sir. Yes, ma’am. Please, don’t stop. Feels so good here between you. Please.”

Humming, Carolina gives his hair one last stroke before drawing back. Wash whines, but York nudges his head to the side and captures Wash’s lips. Licking, biting, and teasing, York eats up every sound that slips out of Wash, all the high, incoherent babbles that Tucker is desperately, achingly eager to hear. As he breaks the kiss, York presses their foreheads together. Wash cranes upward, instinctively reaching for another kiss. “What do you want?”

Wash moans, his back arching as his hips pump forward reflexively. It might just be the neediest, hottest sound Tucker’s ever heard.

“C’mon, Wash. Use your words. Be a good boy.”

“Please,” he groans. “Don’t stop, just make me cum.”

York grins and pecks his cheek. “See? Not so hard, huh? Relax and enjoy. You’ve earned it.”

And another whimper slips past Wash’s lips before York pulls in back for another kiss and finally lets his hand trail all the way down to Wash’s flushed, twitching erection. If Wash made a few noises before, they have absolutely nothing on the current cacophony of filth. High whines and whimpers. Urgent pleas muffled under teeth and tongue. All the while, York pumps Wash’s cock smooth and slow, his movements lacking any sense of urgency. 

Tucker stares, his eyes wide and his hand twitching toward his fly. Every time Wash moans or bucks his hips, Tucker feels himself respond. Fuck, it looks awful in the best possible way, held at arms length from bliss when he can probably taste it. Tucker doesn’t know who he envy mores: York turning Wash to putty in his arms, Wash having so much care and attention poured into his pleasure and torment, or Carolina getting a front row seat to the show. But his skin tingles, and his shirt sticks to his back, and he doesn’t remember the last time he swallowed, much less closed his mouth. 

“Good boy,” York says when he pulls back away from Wash’s kiss. “When you’re ready.” 

Then he leans down and bites the meat of Wash’s shoulder, and Wash’s hips pump in quick shallow thrusts and his moans jump a few octaves until Tucker can see his throat working but can’t hear a sound. Back arched in a perfect bow, Wash cums, his cock jerking and spurting across York’s hand and Wash’s chest. York strokes him through the orgasm, until Wash is panting, his dick twitches, and he’s starting to squirm away from every touch.

Grinning, York plants a peck on his cheek. “That feel good for you?”

Wash groans, tucking his face against York’s neck and shivering. York frowns. “You okay, Wash?”

He shakes. “’m sorry.”

Yorks eyes go big, and he looks up at the camera, pleading. The frame jostles as Carolina puts down the camera and crawls onto the bed. With quick, firm hands, she scoops Wash into her arms, like the fact that he’s got at least six inches and at least fifty pounds on her doesn’t matter. She cradles him against her chest, threading a hand back through his hair. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I could’ve held out longer. Should’ve asked for permission before I—”

“Shh,” Carolina pulls him a little tighter against her. “You’re a good boy, Wash. You did exactly what we asked of you. Our good boy.”

Despite the comfort, Wash shakes and shakes, clinging to Lina like she’s a lone rock in a hurricane. Tucker flushes, thinking maybe he should turn this off because this is personal. He nearly stops the video when he remembers that he didn’t just stumble upon this. Carolina gave it to him. Purposefully. Knowingly. She wanted him to see this, to see Wash in the aftermath, to understand. And Wash has his back to camera and doesn’t stop shaking until York drapes a blanket over his shoulders and rubs his back, every motion slow and steady. 

After what feels like hours but can only have been five to ten minutes, Wash sighs and his limbs go lax. He shifts under the blanket, rolling down until his head is pillowed in Lina’s lap. She pushes his bags out of his face. “You back in your head, rookie?”

“Yeah, I’m… I’m better now.” He flushes and gives a jerky nod. “Sor—”

“Hey, none of that,” York comments, approaching the bed with a pair of water bottles. “Don’t apologize for doing what you love. If you keep that up, Lina’s bound to smack you, and not in the fun way.”

Wash chuckles, propping himself up on the bed and taking one of the bottles. “Fair enough.”

The video cuts off shortly thereafter, leaving Tucker alone in the dark with a knot in his throat and a hard-on the size of Gibralter. He drops his helmet on the floor beside his bunk and shoves a hand into his briefs with no further ado. He gets through half a dozen strokes before the thought of Wash going boneless under him does him in. 

He makes an absolute mess of his boxers but can’t be bothered by it. Because, fuck, if Wash wants to do anything like what he saw on the video with Tucker, if he trusts Tucker enough to let Tucker see a secret part of himself, well Tucker’s gonna do everything in his power to prove to Wash he’s worth it.

After he cleans up and changes into a fresh pair of boxers, Tucker puts his helmet back on and tries to copy the clip onto his own hard drive. His porn collection hasn’t been updated since before he got stationed in the desert, and Tucker knows a golden opportunity when he sees one. But the data chip is encrypted and Tucker is not enough of a nerd to know how to work around that. Oh well, he’ll just have to see if he can talk Wash into making another video at some point.

The thought sends another rush of blood southward, and Tucker just grins. He can’t wait to talk to Wash.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Questions, comments, and concrit welcome. Come scream with me on Tumblr (birdsbeesandlemonadetrees.tumblr.com)


End file.
